
Chef Thomas
A Ploughman's Salad
The old pub ploughman's, shaken loose from its board and laid across butter lettuce with a sharp mustard dressing, for the kind of lunch that feels like you've given yourself the afternoon off.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by Chef Thomas
Waxy potatoes, still warm from the pan, tossed with crisp smoked bacon and a sharp, grainy mustard dressing that soaks into every crumbled edge. The kind of salad that earns its place at the centre of the table.
The smell of bacon in a warm kitchen is a kind of announcement. Something is happening. Someone is paying attention. It reaches into the other rooms of the house and does what no dinner call ever could.
This is a salad that doesn't behave like one. It's warm and sturdy and satisfying in a way that leaves and vinaigrette rarely manage. The potatoes go into the dressing while they're still hot, which is the whole trick, really. A hot potato absorbs a dressing. A cold one wears it. The difference between the two is the difference between something good and something you'll write down in the notebook. The mustard is sharp, the bacon is salty and crisp, and the shallots have gone soft and sweet in the rendered fat. It all comes together in ten minutes once the potatoes are cooked.
I make this through the year. New Charlottes in June, when the skins are thin as paper and the flesh is waxy and yellow. Bigger, earthier potatoes in October, when you want something that holds its own against the cold. It sits happily next to a grilled chop, or on a table at a gathering where everyone brings a dish and yours is the one they come back to. Right food, right evening. We're only making dinner.
Quantity
750g
unpeeled
Quantity
6 rashers
Quantity
2
peeled and finely sliced
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
4 tablespoons
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
small bunch
roughly chopped
Quantity
a few
snipped
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| waxy potatoes (Charlotte or similar)unpeeled | 750g |
| smoked back bacon | 6 rashers |
| banana shallotspeeled and finely sliced | 2 |
| wholegrain mustard | 2 tablespoons |
| Dijon mustard | 1 tablespoon |
| red wine vinegar | 2 tablespoons |
| good olive oil | 4 tablespoons |
| runny honey | 1 teaspoon |
| flat-leaf parsleyroughly chopped | small bunch |
| chives (optional)snipped | a few |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | to taste |
Put the potatoes, whole and unpeeled, into a large pan of well-salted cold water. Bring to a steady simmer and cook until a knife slides through them without resistance. Not soft, not chalky. Somewhere between. Depending on size, this takes fifteen to twenty minutes. Drain them and let them sit in the colander for a minute, steaming dry. While they're still hot, cut them into rough halves or thick slices. They should be warm and slightly crumbly at the edges. That roughness is where the dressing clings.
While the potatoes simmer, lay the bacon rashers in a cold, dry frying pan. Set it over a medium heat and let them cook slowly as the pan warms. No oil needed. The fat renders out and the bacon crisps in its own dripping. You want it properly golden and firm, not limp and pale. When it's there, lift the rashers onto a board and chop or tear them into rough pieces. Keep the pan and the fat. You'll want both.
Turn the heat under the bacon pan to low. Add the sliced shallots to the warm fat and let them soften for two or three minutes, stirring once. They should go translucent and slightly sweet, not coloured. Take the pan off the heat. Add both mustards, the vinegar, the olive oil, and the honey. Stir it all together in the pan, scraping up any sticky bacon bits from the base. Taste it. It should be sharp and punchy, with a warmth from the mustard and a quiet sweetness from the honey. Season with salt and pepper. Adjust the vinegar if it needs more bite.
Tumble the warm potato halves into a wide, shallow bowl. Pour the dressing over them while they're still hot. This is the moment that matters. Hot potatoes drink in a dressing the way cold ones never will. Turn everything gently with your hands or a large spoon, being careful not to crush the potatoes but not being too precious about it either. A few broken edges are fine. Scatter the bacon pieces and most of the parsley over the top. Fold through loosely. Finish with the chives and a final grind of pepper. Serve it warm, not hot, not cold. Somewhere in between, where the flavours are open and generous.
1 serving (about 280g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Thomas
The old pub ploughman's, shaken loose from its board and laid across butter lettuce with a sharp mustard dressing, for the kind of lunch that feels like you've given yourself the afternoon off.

Chef Thomas
Double-podded broad beans and sweet peas, dressed simply with torn mint, lemon, and good olive oil. The kind of bowl that tastes the way a June garden smells.

Chef Thomas
Celeriac cut into pale matchsticks and dressed in sharp mustard and crème fraîche, the sort of thing you make on a Sunday and find yourself eating from the bowl with a fork on Tuesday.

Chef Thomas
Bitter chicory leaves carrying sharp apple, crumbled Stilton, and toasted walnuts, dressed with cider vinegar and honey. A winter salad that earns its place at the table when the garden has shut up shop.